


Summer Court

by shieraseastar03



Series: ACOMAF [7]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Late Night Conversations, The Night Court, The Spring Court (ACoTaR), The Summer Court (ACoTaR)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieraseastar03/pseuds/shieraseastar03





	1. Reply

“Don’t dance so much on your toes” Cassian said to Shiera some weeks later, as they spent the unusually warm afternoon in the sparring ring. “Feet planted, daggers up. Eyes on mine. If you were on a battlefield, you would have been dead with that maneuver”. Amren snorted, picking at her nails while she lounged in a chaise. “She heard you the first ten times you said it, Cassian”. “Keep talking, Amren, and I’ll drag you into the ring and see how much practice you’ve actually been doing”. Amren just continued cleaning her nails, with a tiny bone, Shiera realized. “Touch me, Cassian, and I’ll remove your favorite part. Small as it might be”. Shiera let out a low chuckle and they looked at her, Cassian still laughing himself. And they were both surprised, they hadn’t seen the princess laughing, ever.

 

Standing between them in the sparring ring atop the House of Wind, a dagger in each hand, sweat sliding down her body, Shiera wondered if she should find a way to slip out. Perhaps winnow, though she hadn’t been able to do it again since that morning in the mortal realm, despite her quiet efforts in the privacy of her own bedroom. Weeks of this, training with him, working with Rhys afterward on trying to summon flame or darkness. Unsurprisingly, she made more progress with the former. Word had not yet arrived from Adriata. Or from the Spring Court, regarding Shiera’s letter. She hadn’t decided if that was a good thing. Azriel continued his attempt to infiltrate the human queens’ courts, his network of spies now seeking a foothold to get inside. That he hadn’t managed to do so yet had made him quieter than usual, colder.

 

Amren’s silver eyes flicked up from her nails. “Good. You can play with her”. “Play with who?” Mor inquired, stepping from the stairwell shadows. Cassian’s nostrils flared. “Where’d you go the other night?” he asked Mor without so much as a nod of greeting. “I didn’t see you leave Rita’s”.

 

Their usual dance hall for drinking and revelry. They’d dragged Shiera out two nights ago, and she had spent most of the time sitting in their booth, nursing her wine, talking over the music with Alec, who had arrived content to brood, but reluctantly joined her in observing Rhys holding court at the bar. Females and males watched Rhysand throughout the hall, and the Prince of Velaris and the Princess of Adriata, made a game of betting on who, exactly, would work up the nerve to invite the High Lord home. Unsurprisingly, Alec won every round.

 

Rhys didn’t accept any offers that came his way, no matter how beautiful they were, no matter how they smiled and laughed. And his refusals were polite, firm, but polite. Had he been with anyone since Amarantha? Did he want another person in his bed after Amarantha? Even the wine hadn’t given Shiera the nerve to ask Alec about it.

 

Mor, it seemed, went to Rita’s more than anyone else, practically lived there, actually. She shrugged at Cassian’s demand and another chaise like Amren’s appeared. “I just went... out” she said, plopping down. “With whom?” Cassian pushed. “Last I was aware” Mor said, leaning back in the chair, “I didn’t take orders from you, Cassian. Or report to you. So where I was, and who I was with, is none of your damn concern”.

 

“You didn’t tell Azriel, either”.

 

Shiera paused, weighing those words, Cassian’s stiff shoulders. Yes, there was some tension between him and Mor that resulted in that bickering, but... perhaps... perhaps Cassian accepted the role of buffer not to keep them apart, but to keep the shadowsinger from hurt. From being old news, as Shiera had called him. Cassian finally remembered Shiera had been standing in front of him, noted the look of understanding on her face, and gave her a warning one in return. Fair enough. She shrugged and took a moment to set down the daggers and catch her breath.

 

“Why, exactly” Cassian said to Amren and Mor, not even bothering to try to sound pleasant, “are you two ladies here?”. Mor closed her eyes as she tipped back her head, sunning her golden face with the same irreverence that Cassian perhaps sought to shield Azriel from, and Mor herself perhaps tried to shield Azriel from as well. “Rhys is coming in a few moments to give us some news, apparently. Didn’t Amren tell you?”.

 

“I forgot” Amren said, still picking at her nails. “I was having too much fun watching Shiera evade Cassian’s tried-and-true techniques to get people to do what he wants”. Cassian’s brows rose. “You’ve been here for an hour”. “Oops” Amren said. Cassian threw up his hands. “Get off your ass and give me twenty lunges...”. A vicious, unearthly snarl cut him off.

 

But Rhys strolled out of the stairwell, and Shiera couldn’t decide if she should be relieved or disappointed that Cassian versus Amren was put to a sudden stop. He was in his fine clothes, not fighting leathers, his wings nowhere in sight. Rhys looked at them, at her, the daggers she had left in the dirt, and then said, “Sorry to interrupt while things were getting interesting”.

 

“Fortunately for Cassian’s balls” Amren said and Shiera chuckled again, “you arrived at the right time”.  Cassian snarled halfheartedly at her. Rhys laughed and said “Ready to go on a summer holiday?”. “The Summer Court invited you?” Mor said surprised. “Of course they did. Congratulations, Shiera darling. You convinced them” a big smile in her direction and then he announced, “Shiera, Amren, Mor and I are going tomorrow”.

 

“Only the four of you?” Cassian seemed to have the same thought, his wings rustling as he crossed his arms and faced his brother. Rhys rubbed his temples. “Cassian, considering the fact that the last time you visited, it didn’t end well...”. “I wrecked one building” he complained and Shiera choked again with a broken laugh. Rhys turned to her, amazed to see her nearly laughing. “What happened?” the princess asked. Cassian snorted, “It…”, a sigh, “I made a mistake once”. “And” Rhys cut him off, “Considering the fact that they are utterly terrified of sweet Amren, she is the wiser choice. Also, Shiera darling said that Mor and princess Cresseida could get on well so that might help if they decide to help us”. Rhysand walked through the roof and added, “I suggested Alec to come but he decided to stay”. Amren raised her brows and he gave her a look that meant, I’ll explain you later.

 

“How do you know they don’t know about the Book?” Mor spoke and Amren replied,  “Their new High Lord is young and untested. I doubt he’s had much time to catalog his inherited hoard since he was appointed. Very well, Rhysand. I’m in”. Cassian started to object again, but Rhys said quietly, “I will need you, not Amren, in the human realm. The Summer Court has banned you for eternity, and though your presence would be a good distraction while Shiera does what she has to, it could lead to more trouble than it’s worth”.

 

“You were banned for eternity?” Shiera let out, really surprised. Tarquin wasn’t the type of High Lord who… “It wasn’t him” Rhys explained and gave her the look that meant that she had sent her thoughts through their bond. “His father wasn’t a prick like mine but he didn’t like very much that Cassian destroyed one of his buildings”.

 

“Just cool your heels, Cassian” Amren said, “We’ll be fine without your swaggering and growling at everyone”. Cassian’s wings settled again. He jerked his chin at the princess. “Shiera, though. It’s one thing to have her here, even when everyone knows it. It’s another to bring her to her previous Court as a member of our own”. The message it’d send to Tamlin. If her letter wasn’t enough.

 

But Rhys was done. He inclined his head to Amren and strolled for the open archway. Cassian lurched a step, but Mor lifted a hand. “Leave it” she murmured. Cassian glared, but obeyed. Shiera took that as a chance to follow after Rhys, the warm darkness inside the House of Wind blinding her. Her Fae eyes adjusted swiftly, but for the first few steps down the narrow hallway, she trailed after Rhys on memory alone.

 

Her mind travelled to the palace in Adriata and her heart beated slowly, nervously just with the thought of returning there, along with her ghosts of a bright and lost past.

 

“Any more traps I should know about before we go tomorrow?” she managed to joke. Rhys looked over a shoulder, pausing atop the stair landing. “Here I was, thinking your notes the other night indicated you’d forgiven me”. She took in that half grin, the chest she might have suggested she’d lick and had avoided looking at for the past four days, and halted a healthy distance away.

 

“One would think a High Lord would have more important things to do than pass notes back and forth at night”. “I do have more important things to do,” he purred. “But I find myself unable to resist the temptation. The same way you can’t resist watching me whenever we’re out. So territorial”.

 

Her mouth went a bit dry. But… flirting with him, fighting with him... It was easy. Fun. Maybe she deserved both of those things.

 

So she closed the distance between them, smoothly stepped past him, and said, “You haven’t been able to keep away from me since Calanmai, it seems”. Something rippled in his eyes that she couldn’t place, but he flicked her nose, hard enough that she hissed and batted his hand away.

 

“I can’t wait to see what that sharp tongue of yours can do at the Summer Court” he said, gaze fixed on her mouth, and vanished into shadow.


	2. Adriata

In the end, only the ones Rhys had mentioned joined him, Cassian having failed to sway his High Lord, Azriel still off overseeing his network of spies and investigating the human realm. Rhys would winnow them directly into Adriata, and there they would stay, for however long it took them to discuss about the first half of the Book.

 

Rhys, Mor and Amren stood in the town house foyer the next day, the rich morning sunlight streaming through the windows and pooling on the ornate carpet. Amren wore her usual shades of gray, her loose pants cut to just beneath her navel, the billowing top cropped to show the barest slice of skin along her midriff. Alluring as a calm sea under a cloudy sky. Mor wore her favourite red dress, which wrapped all her generous curves in a perfect way only she was capable of. Her nails matched the exact color of her flowing skirt. Rhys was in head-to-toe black accented with silver thread, no wings. The cool, cultured male Shiera had first met. His favorite mask.

 

For her own, the Princess of Adriata selected a flowing dress, its skirts floating on a phantom wind beneath the silver-and-pearl-crusted belt at her waist. Matching night-blooming silver flowers had been embroidered to climb from the hem to brush her thighs, and a few more twined down the folds at her  shoulders. The perfect gown to combat the warmth of the Summer Court. It swished and sighed as she descended the last two stairs into the foyer. Rhys surveyed her with a long, unreadable sweep from her silver-slippered feet to her half-up hair. Nuala had curled the strands that had been left down, soft, supple curls that brought out the back in her hair.

 

Rhys shook his head and simply said, “Good. Let’s go”. Shiera’s mouth popped open, but Amren explained with a broad, feline smile, “He’s pissy this morning”. “Why?” she asked with a little grin, watching Amren take Rhys’s hand, her delicate fingers dwarfed by his. He held out the other to the princess. “Because” Rhys answered for her, “I stayed out late with Alec, Cassian and Azriel, and they took me for all I was worth in cards”.

 

“Sore loser?” she joked and gripped his hand. His calluses scraped against her own, the only reminder of the trained warrior beneath the clothes and veneer. “I am when my family tag-team me” he grumbled.

 

He offered no warning before they vanished on a midnight wind, and then… Then Rhys was squinting at the glaring sun off a turquoise sea, just as he was trying to reorder his body around the dry, suffocating heat, even with the cooling breeze off the water. The last time that he had been there… He looked at Shiera, remembering when the mating bond had snapped into place.

 

The princess blinked a few times, and that was as much reaction as she let herself show as she yanked her hand from Rhys’s grip. Mor looked around, they seemed to be standing at the base of a tan stone palace. The city spread around and below them, toward that sparkling sea, the buildings all from that stone, or glimmering white material that might have been coral or pearl. Gulls flapped over the many turrets and spires, no clouds above them, nothing on the breeze with them but salty air and the clatter of the city below.

 

There were two people  before them, framed by a pair of sea glass doors that opened into the palace itself. A male and a female. They both had rich brown skin, white hair, and eyes of crushing blue. And when they saw the green-eyed female in the center of the Night Court members, they opened their mouths at the sight of her. The princess spun towards them and they embraced her.

 

“Shiera!” they let out after separating a bit from her, to pass their hands over her arms and shoulders. “You… You are…”. Not extremely thin anymore or pale. Now she was healthy and even a bit tanned. “I’m fine, I’m fine” she repeated but they cupped her face, checking it out as they couldn’t believe it yet that she had been saved and cared in the enigmatic and dangerous Court that Rhysand ruled.

 

Shiera separated a bit more from them and approached Rhys, waiting for him to speak. He merely drawled, “Good to see you again”. The eyes of the siblings, both of an amazing blue, were now shifted between Shiera and Rhys, then Cresseida’s eyes were fixed on Mor as her brother stared at Amren.

 

Rhys slid one hand into a pocket and gestured with the other to the people by his side. “Amren” he declared while the silver-eyed female and Varian nodded, astounded by the mysterious aura she had around. Then a half smile to the blonde female, “And she is Mor”. Mor grinned to the silver-haired princess and Cresseida blinked, amazed by the beautiful female who was wearing that sexy red dress.

 

Cool, calculating grace, edged with steel had been Rhys words.

 

Varian nodded again, “Welcome to the city, ladies”. Amren didn’t nod, or bow, or so much as curtsy. She looked over the former Prince of Adriata, tall and muscled, his clothes of sea-green and blue and gold. His attention was fixed wholly on Amren, as if he knew where the biggest threat lay. In all the time Rhys and Mor had known her, Amren had never looked more delighted. Her red lips stretched wide.

 

Varian’s eyes, such stunning, crystal blue, still fixed on her. The new High Lord did not smile. She kept her face neutral, vaguely bored. His gaze drifted to her wrist, to the rich ruby bracelet she was wearing, but somehow he felt like those gemstones could have been made of blood itself. Amren seemed like the kind of female that could kill you with no need of weapons at all. Some males might have found her terrifying, but Varian found her… Interesting.

 

Rhys followed that gaze. “I would recommend you to be careful, dear Amren is very selective with her lovers”. Amren clucked her tongue, Varian blushed a bit and Cresseida gave her brother a conspiratorial grin. Mor tuned to her cousin and crooned, “We all know you really like to meddle in everyone’s life but I think you should let them keep staring at each other”. Varian blinked and Amren’s smirk grew in her red lips. “Here I was, thinking you had me for a respectful male about private thoughts”. Shiera choked with a sudden laugh, “You thought...”.

 

Violet eyes met green ones and delighted surprise lit Rhys’s, there and gone in a heartbeat. They both looked back to their hosts, still amazed-faced. She had nearly laugh. Shiera, who had been utterly broken for months… And Rhysand had made her laugh. Varian and Cresseida seemed to weigh the air between Shiera’s companions and her, then said smoothly, “You have a tale to tell, it seems”. “We have many tales to tell” Rhys replied, jerking his chin toward the glass doors behind them. “So why not get comfortable?”.

 

The silver female a half-step next to varian inched closer. “We have refreshments prepared”. He seemed to remember her and put a hand on her slim shoulder. “I’m Varian. And she is Cresseida. Princess of Adriata”.

 

Mor’s heart stopped. Cresseida’s long, silver hair blew across her pretty face in the briny breeze, and her eyes, yet the exact colour of her brother’s, but somehow, for Mor it seemed that Cresseida’s eyes were the most beautiful blue she had ever seen before.

 

“A pleasure” Cress murmured huskily to Rhys and Amren, then added looking at Mor, “And an honor”. The blonde female gave her a big, wicked grin. “The honor’s mine, princess”. And that female could not be a princess at all but she was… Confident, powerful, dangerous unther that beautiful she had. And beautiful… Mor was stunning. Golden hair, long, waved. Rich and warm eyes fixed on her.

 

They were led into a palace crafted of shell-flecked walkways and walls, countless windows looking out to the bay and mainland or the open sea beyond. Sea glass chandeliers swayed on the warm breeze over gurgling streams and fountains of fresh water. High fae, servants and courtiers, hurried across and around them, most brown-skinned and clad in loose, light clothing, all far too preoccupied with their own matters to take note or interest in their presence.

 

Varian and Rhys had been talking lightly, both already sounding bored, of the approaching Nynsar, of the native flowers that both courts would display for the minor, brief holiday. Calanmai wouldn’t be too long after that.

 

“We have four main cities in my territory” Varian said to them, looking over his muscled shoulder and Cresseida continued for him, “We spend the last month of winter and spring months in Adriata, it’s finest at this time of year”. Indeed, Mor supposed that with endless summer, there was no limit to how one might enjoy one’s time. In the country, by the sea, in a city under the stars... She nodded. “It’s very beautiful”.

 

Shiera then muttered “The repairs have been going well, I take it”. Cress nodded. “Mostly. There remains much to be done. The back half of the castle is a wreck. But, as you can see, we’ve finished most of the inside. We focused on the city first, and those repairs are ongoing”.

 

Three advisers peeled off to attend to other duties, murmuring farewell, with wary looks in the High Lord and Princesses direction. As if this might very well be the first time they would needed to play host and they were watching their royalty’s every move.

 

The siblings led them into a vaulted room of white oak and green glass, overlooking the mouth of the bay and the sea that stretched on forever. Shiera knew she had never seen water so vibrant. Green and cobalt and midnight. And for a heartbeat, a palette of paint flashed in her mind, along with the blue and yellow and white and black she might need to paint it… But she couldn’t paint yet, she had tried in the Spring Court but when her fingers held a brush what appeared was only nightmares, guresome, dark and terrorific creatures she had met Under the Mountain.

 

But there, standing before one of the wide windows she remembered that she had done the exact thing when she had first arrived to Adriata. Tarquin had approached her and his eyes… so like the sea beyond… A year. It had been a whole year since that moment. She lifted a hand until her fingers touched the glass, like she could grab the moment, or maybe touch the turquoise ocean before her.

 

Amren, Rhys and Varian had seated themselves around the mother-of-pearl table. A handful of servants were heaping fruits, leafy greens, and steamed shellfish onto their plates. Rhysand stared at his mate and felt how her heart broke a bit again, due to the sorrow, the memories and the unhealing wound she had in her heart. He wanted to stand, go next to her, joke and make her smile again. He wouldn’t care if someone said anything, he just wanted to make her happy. But his idea was suddenly frustrated.

 

Two figures appeared by her sides. Silver and gold. “You must be very proud” Mor said, “to have such stunning lands”. Cresseida’s eyes slid to her sister. “How do they compare to the ones you have seen?”. Mor tensed by Shiera’s side. Such a carefully crafted question. Velaris appeared in her mind, so beautiful and bright under the starlight… She hated to lie to her sister but Rhys suffered so much to protect his home… “Everything in Prythian is lovely, when compared to the mortal realm” Shiera replied smoothly and felt how Mor relaxed a bit.

 

They could hear how Rhys and Amren engaged Varian in bland, edged discussion about the status of their fish markets.

 

Mor looked the silver princess of Summer up and down,as she had examined her, brazenly and without a shred of politeness, and then said “You are a pearl. Though I knew when Shiera told me how beautiful her sister was. The sunlight and sea suit you”. Cresseida blinked at how direct Mor was and was even more surprised when Shiera turned to the golden female and purred with a shy smirk, “I knew you would get on well”.

 

* * *

 

They sat, Varian, Mor and Shiera in one couch, Cress, Rhys and Amren in another, in front of them. Shiera began to felt nervous. Varian and Cresseida knew that she had been married to Tarquin, then engaged to Tamlin and was now with Rhysand, and had now been brought here. Perhaps they thought her no better than Ianthe.

 

Cress raised a brow towards her. “How, exactly, do you fit within Rhysand’s Court?”. A direct question, after such roundabout ones, to no doubt get me on uneven footing. It almost worked. She nearly admitted, I don’t know. But Rhys said “She is my Emissary to the Summer Court and the Mortal Lands”. Cresseida, seated beside him, asked, “Do you have much contact with the mortal realm?”. The High Lord of the Night Court sniffed at his wine, white, sparkling, and Varian wondered if he was trying to piss them off by implying they’d poisoned it as Rhys said, “I prefer to be prepared for every potential situation. And, given that Hybern seems set on making themselves a nuisance, striking up a conversation with the humans might be in our best interest”.

 

Varian drew his focus away from Amren long enough to say roughly, “So it’s been confirmed, then? Hybern is readying for war”. “They’re done readying” Rhys drawled, at last sipping from his wine. Amren didn’t touch her plate, though she pushed things around as she always did. Varian seemed like a good guess. “War is imminent.” “Yes, you mentioned that in your letter” Cresseida said to Shiera, and the green-eyed princess blushed, overwhelmed because everyone was staring at her now.

 

Varian’s gaze again drifted to her before focusing on Rhys. “And you know that against Hybern, we will fight. We lost so much Under the Mountain. We have no interest in being slaves again. But if you are here to ask us to fight in another war, Rhysand...”. “That is not a possibility” Rhys smoothly cut in, “and had not even entered my mind”.

 

Shiera’s glimmer of confusion must have shown, because Mor crooned to her, “High Lords have gone to war for less, you know. Doing it over such an unusual female would be nothing unexpected”. “I… I don’t understand…” she barely muttered, ashamed and Varian explained softly, “Tamlin could go to war to get you back”.

 

Shiera opened her mouth a bit, astonished. Then she began to shake her head. “No, no… Why he would do that?”. She met Rhys violet gaze. “He thinks that I kidnapped you”. She let out a broken, sudden laugh. “What? I wrote to him, I explained everything and told him to stay away”.  And he wasn’t foolish enough to start a war he could not win. Not when he wouldn’t be fighting other High Fae, but illyrian warriors, led by Cassian and Azriel. It would be slaughter.

 

Cresseida cracked a large crab claw, pink and white and orange. “Some weeks after the wedding he came here, terribly annoyed with what you did, in front of his whole court. We wanted to know if we were harboring his stolen bride, and if we did, we must return her to her master, as the law demands. And as any wise person might do, to keep trouble from their doorstep”. Shiera blinked. “He threatened you?”. “Of course not. Tamlin might be impulsive and territorial and selfish but he is not stupid”. Rhys made a noise that proved Cresseida wrong and made Shiera smile a bit.

 

Varian and Cresseida studied her, her smile… and Rhysand, whose face was turned to Shiera, too. But then Rhys looked to the siblings and said “We have more to discuss later,  but I think you three have so much to talk about so…”, he stood up with Mor and Amren. The High Lord and princesses imitated them and Varian announced, “Tonight, I’m throwing a party for you all on my pleasure barge in the bay. After that, you’re free to roam in this city wherever you wish”. Mor bowed her head, just a bit, as she gave them a big, red grin. “Oh, we will”.

 

And as Rhysand began to walk towards the servants were indicating, he turned to the green-eyed princess and purred, “Try not to miss our presence too much, Shiera darling”. She lifted her brows and gave him a half smirk, “I don’t know if I will resist”. Rhys showed her a shameless smile and crooned “Indeed”. And Shiera smiled, a big, real smile curved her lips in an attempt to laugh. Cresseida and Varian exchanged a glance, astounded, even impressed. When the young female turned her head to them again, they stared at her. “What?” she inquired. “You… Smiled” Cress let out. Shiera sigher and gave them a small, sad smile. “Yes… Apparently is something that I could do again.

  



	3. Some confessions

They were given a suite of connecting rooms, all centered on a large, lavish lounge that was open to the sea and city below. Shiera’s new bedroom was appointed in seafoam and softest blue with pops of gold, like the gilded clamshell atop her pale wood dresser. She had just set it down when the white door behind her clicked open and Rhys slid in. He leaned against the door once he shut it, the top of his black tunic unbuttoned to reveal the upper whorls of the tattoo spanning his chest.

 

“The problem of stealing, I’ve realized, would be that I like them” he said by way of greeting. “I could live without, but I bet a few weeks with Cassian and Azriel, and Varian would be thick as thieves with them and I’d have to learn to like him. Or he’d be wrapped around Amren’s finger, and I’d have to leave him alone entirely or risk her wrath. Cresseida on the other hand, would be a bestie to Mor and they would probably be a nightmare to my sanity”.

 

“And?”.

 

Shiera took up a spot against the dresser, where clothes that had belonged to her previous room in that same palace, were already waiting for her. The space of the room, the large bed, the windows, the sunlight, filled the silence between them.

 

“And?”.

 

Shiera took up a spot against the dresser, where clothes that had belonged to her previous room in that same palace, were already waiting for her. The space of the room, the large bed, the windows, the sunlight, filled the silence between them. “And” Rhys went on, “I’m glad they are your family. And I want to thank you for find a way to do what you have to do without making enemies of them. My Court will have less enemies thanks to you”. “But thanks to me you have Tamlin as your enemy, huh?”.

 

Rhysand stared at her. Her sparkling eyes, her generous curves and her dark, waving hair. The only thought of what Tamlin would have done on his wedding day… His blood froze with rage but when he saw the way she had looked around in that big palace, how she touched her ring… Being there again, without Tarquin, it totally killed her but she had agreed, for him, because she wanted to help. He had joked and she had smiled, now he must keep trying so she didn’t break again.

 

“Did you like that Tamlin couldn’t stop looking at you?” Rhys purred, “ I can’t tell if it’s because he wants you as a prize, or because he is in love”. She lifted her brows. “Can’t it be both?”. “Of course. But having a High Lord lusting after you is a dangerous game.” She clucked her tongue. “First you taunt me with Cassian, now Tamlin? Can’t you find other ways to annoy me?”.

 

Rhys prowled closer, and Shiera steadied herself for his scent, his warmth, the impact of his power. He braced a hand on either side of her, gripping the dresser. She refused to shrink away and suddenly felt the need of joking again. “And about Tamlin and his attempt of war...”. His brows rose. She swallowed. “If he could forget about me… If I fucked him for it… What would you do?”.

 

His pupils flared, his heart thundering and his gaze dropped to her mouth. The wood dresser groaned beneath his hands. “You say such atrocious things”. She waited, her heart an uneven beat. He at last met her green eyes again and he crooned, “You are always free to do what you want, with whomever you want. So if you want to ride him, go ahead”. “Maybe I will”. Not even a blink. “Fine” he replied and his breath caressed her mouth. “Fine” she said, aware of every inch between them, the distance smaller and smaller, the challenge heightening with each second neither of them moved.

 

Mother above… She was so close, so confident… So beautiful and wild in that right moment… He wanted to kiss her, press his lips against her and savour her soul. If they had been in any other place, in the Mortal Lands, Velaris or even the Spring Court he would do it. He would lean forward to taste those salty lips his mate had but not there, not in the palace where her ghosts still haunted her. Even if she returned the kiss, he was sure she would regret it later if he kissed her in Adriata.

 

The salt and the sea and the breeze tugged on Shiera, sang to her. And as if Rhys heard them, too, he inclined his head toward the unlit candle on the dresser. “Light it”.

 

She debated arguing, whatever that moment they have had, he had ruined it... But she thought that maybe it was better, what would have happened anyway? So she looked at the candle, summoning fire, summoning that hot anger he managed to rile… The candle was knocked off the dresser by a violent splash of water, as if someone had chucked a bucketful.

 

Shiera gaped at the water drenching the dresser, its dripping on the marble floor the only sound. Rhys, hands still braced on either side of her, laughed quietly. “Can’t you ever follow orders?”. But whatever it was… being here, close to Tarquin’s memories and his power... She could feel that water answering her. Feel it coating the floor, feel the sea churning and idling in the bay, taste the salt on the breeze. She held Rhys’s gaze and when she lowered her shields, he said "No one is your master, but you might be master of everything, if you wished. If you dared".

 

Like a strange rain, the water rose from the floor as Shiera willed it to become like those stars Rhys had summoned in his blanket of darkness. She willed the droplets to separate until they hung around them, catching the light and sparkling like crystals on a chandelier. Rhys broke her stare to study them. “I suggest” he murmured, “you not show Tamlin that little trick in the bedroom”. The princess sent each and every one of those droplets shooting for the High Lord’s face. Too fast, too swiftly for him to shield. Some of them sprayed her as they ricocheted off him. Both of them now soaking, Rhys gaped a bit, then smiled. “Good work” he said, at last pushing off the dresser. He didn’t bother to wipe away the water gleaming on his skin. “Keep practicing”.

 

But before he could leave Shiera said the question that had been hunting her since Varian had mentioned. “Will he go to war? Over me?”. Rhysand knew who she meant. The hot temper that had been on his face moments before turned to lethal calm. “I don’t know”.

 

“I… I would go back. If it came to that. I’d go back, Rhys, rather than make you fight”. He slid a still-wet hand into his pocket. “Would you want to go back? Would going to war on your behalf make you love him? Would that be a grand gesture to win you?”. She swallowed hard. “I’m not an object, I’m not a prize. But I…”, her hands curled into fists, “But I’m tired of death. I don’t want to see anyone else die”. She found his gaze. “And after all you have done for me… I couldn’t bear to see anyone of you and your family harmed because you wanted to help a broken and frightened runaway bride”.

 

Rhys heart stopped, overwhelmed by the truth in her words. “That doesn’t answer my question” he insisted quietly. “No. I wouldn’t want to go back. But I would. Even if it broke me completely I would if that meant to keep your Court away from an unwanted war”. Again a truth that broke his heart. “I wouldn’t let you go back if that meant to destroy yourself” he spoke quietly, approaching slowly where she was standing. “And I wouldn’t let you destroy your army for me” she replied, “You saved me more times that I can count. And if Tamlin declares war to the Night Court, I would go back with him, even if I could never repay what you have done for me”.

 

Rhys stared at her for a moment longer, his face unreadable.

 

How could he tell her that was him who could never repay her?

How could he tell her how much he had saved him during thirty years?

 

Rhys lowered his head and reached for the door but he stopped with his fingers on the sea urchin–shaped handle. “He locked you up because he knew…”, cold rage in his voice, “The bastard knew what a treasure you are. That you are worth more than land or gold or jewels. He knew, and wanted to keep you all to himself”. Shiera blinked, confused. “He knew about my powers?”. Rhysand stared at her for a long, quiet moment before he shook his head with a sad smile. “No, Shiera. He has no idea about your powers but you are not a treasure because of them”.

 

The words hit her.

 

And then he was gone.


	4. Boat

The bay was calm enough, perhaps willed to flatness by its lord and master, that the pleasure barge hardly rocked throughout the hours they dined and drank aboard it. Crafted of richest wood and gold, the enormous boat was amply sized for the hundred or so High Fae trying their best not to observe every movement Rhys, Amren and Mor made. The main deck was full of low tables and couches for eating and relaxing, and on the upper level, beneath a canopy of tiles set with mother-of-pearl, their long table had been set.

 

Shiera looked toward the crowd milling about on the deck below, the lantern-lit water beyond, even as she felt Varian’s gaze linger. He asked then, “What was it like? The Night Court?”.

 

She met his blue gaze again. “I already told you…”. “I mean… Society…”. Shiera rose her brows and Varian swallowed. “The are  people who want to eliminate the inherent privileges of High Fae over the lesser faeries. Even the terms imply a level of unfairness. Maybe it is more like the human realm than you realize, not as blurred as it might seem. In some Courts, the lowest of High Fae servants has more rights than the wealthiest of lesser faeries”. “Do you agree with them? That it should change?”. “Tarquin believed in it” Varian replied quietly and that name, that single word made Shiera go still as death, pale and trembling again.

 

“I never wanted to be a High Lord” he said. “I wasn’t born for it but he had. For me, he will always be the High Lord and I the prince. Perhaps others might call me inexperienced or foolish, but I loved him, he was my brother and he was just and kind and I still defend what he believed in. He had seen those cruelties firsthand, and known many good lesser faeries who suffered for merely being born on the wrong side of power. Even within our own residences, the confines of tradition pressured him to enforce the rules of his predecessors: the lesser faeries are neither to be seen nor heard as they work. He would have like to one day see a Prythian in which they have a voice, both in his home and in the world beyond it”.

 

Varian wasn’t sure Shiera was breathing in that right moment. “He… He never told me…”. Her brother-in-law gave her a sad smile. “He knew he wouldn’t have much time with you and he didn’t want to bore you with politics. He prefered…”, the smile turned sweeter, “He prefered to show you our Court, every beautiful thing he could give you”.

 

She felt how her heart started to break with those words, that truth nobody had told her before. I can’t cry. Not here, not now… However, her eyes betrayed her, two tears fell and rolled down her cheeks. A knot twisted in Varian’s stomach, seeing the pain written across Shiera’s face, the grief that hitted her like a punch in her gut. Just a few hours ago she had been joking and smiling with Rhysand and in less than a minute, there she was, crying, completely broke again.

 

Varian didn’t waste another moment and opened his arms, embracing his brother’s wife, comforting her as best as he could as she wept quietly. And they stayed like, Varian cradling Shiera in his arms, making circular caresses in her back and her hair until her sobs faded slowly.

 

* * *

 

Mor and Amren were chatting together but with their gazes fixed on Cresseida and Varian, respectively. Shiera began to walk in arm with Varian until she managed to calm herself. And seated at his left, deep in conversation with Cresseida, Rhys didn’t so much as look over at Shiera for once. Indeed, he’d barely spoken to her earlier, not even noting her clothes. Unusual, given that even she had been pleased with how she looked, and had again selected it for herself: her hair unbound and swept off her face with a headband of braided rose gold, her sleeveless, dusk-pink chiffon gown, tight in the chest and waist. Feminine, soft, pretty. She hadn’t felt like those things in a long, long while. Hadn’t wanted to.

 

But in Velaris… In Velaris, she  could be soft and lovely at sunset, and awaken in the morning to slide into illyrian fighting leathers. She could be wild and cute, depending on the situation but free in every way.

 

Now Shiera glanced over at Cresseida, who was now almost in Rhysand’s lap. And Rhysand was smiling like a cat, one finger tracing circles on the back of her hand.

 

Shiera pursed her lips at the sight of that scene. She hoped they went to Cress’ room, because if Shiera had to listen to Rhys bed her... Her cheeks heated. Shame. Shame for what? Rhysand teased and taunted her, but had he ever... seduced her, with those long, intent stares, the half smiles that were pure illyrian arrogance? Maybe he had but she had been to focused in her own thoughts to realize. Or maybe she was right, unlike Cresseida and Varian, she knew for sure Rhysand was not in love with her.

 

Had Cress asked her just for knowing if Rhys was free… for her?

 

Rhys, a male that had always flirted with her, trying to make her smile… They had slept together and even if they did just that, sleep, that must mean something more. Had it been just sleeping for him? All he had done for making her come alive again had been to repay for when she broke the curse, or because she would work in the Book? He had been there by her side in all those nights full of nightmares, he had helped to read, to face her worst fears… They had been building something, even though Shiera didn’t know what it was. But he had been always there for her in Velaris, supporting her, joking...

 

And now Cresseida was flirting with him. Shiera nearly wanted to throttle her. And as soon that thought arrived to her mind her heart stopped.

 

What the hell I am doing?, she asked herself. You are being childish, selfish… Cress is your sister, she became your best friend and she had supported you in your worst moments. And Rhys… He has saved you, in all the ways possible, physically and emotionally. And here you are, getting jealous and wanting them to separate.

 

Shiera remembered Cresseida crying next to her brother’s corpse and Rhysand, for all he had sacrificed and done... He deserved it as much as Cress.

 

Shiera supposed she had been granted that gift once, and had used it up, fought for it and she had lost it and that had broken her in a way she would have never imagined.

 

And she realized that Rhys and Cress, they both deserved it. Even if... even if for a moment, Shiera wanted it. She wanted to feel like that again. And... she was lonely. She had been lonely, for a long time. Maybe this wasn't for Rhys at all. Maybe she wasn’t jealous of Rhys being with Cress, maybe she was jealous of what they were sharing, what they could get with time, what Shiera was sure she would never live again. Love and be loved in return.

 

Rhys leaned in to hear something Cresseida was saying, her lips brushing his ear, her hand now entwining with his. And it wasn’t sorrow, or despair, or terror that hit Shiera, but... unhappiness. Such bleak, sharp unhappiness that she got to her gut.

 

Rhys’s eyes shifted toward her, at last remembering she existed, and there was nothing on his face, no hint that he felt any of what she did through their bond. Shiera didn’t care if she had no shield, if her thoughts were wide open and he read them like a book. Rhys blinked, but simply went back to chuckling at whatever Cresseida was telling him, sliding closer.

 

Varian touched her shoulder slowly and she remembered he had been there the whole time when she had childish thoughts about the High Lord of the Night Court and the silver Princess of Adriata. “Shiera?” he asked and saw where her gaze was fixed on. He scanned her and... Rhys. And he realized as Shiera herself did that she was unhappy, not just broken. But unhappy. An emotion, she realized. It was an emotion, rather than the unending emptiness or survival-driven terror.

 

“I need some fresh air” Shiera simply said, even though we were in the open. But with the golden lights, the people up and down the table... She needed to find a spot on this barge where she could be alone, just for a moment, mission or no. “Would you like me to join you?”. Shiera looked at the new High Lord of Summer. Varian, his gentle and kind heart, always there for supporting his family but… But she wasn’t entirely sure that even with the hardships he had encountered Under the Mountain, he could understand the darkness that might always be in her. Not only from Amarantha, but from months spent being trapped, and desperate. That she might always be a little bit vicious or restless. That she might crave peace, but never a cage of comfort.

 

So she managed to give him a small, sweet smile. “I’m fine, thank you” she said before raising to her toes and pressing her lips against his cheek. Then she headed for the sweeping staircase that led down onto the stern of the ship, brightly lit, but quieter than the main areas at the prow. Rhys barely looked in her direction as she walked away. Good riddance.

 

She reached the main deck, found a spot by the wooden railing that was a bit more shadowed than the rest, and leaned against it. Magic propelled the boat, no oars, no sails. So they moved through the bay, silent and smooth, hardly a ripple in their wake. When Shiera filed onto land with the rest of the crowd, Amren, Varian, and Mor were waiting for her at the docks, all a bit stiff-backed.

 

Rhysand and Cresseida were nowhere to be seen.


	5. Confused about her feelings

Mercifully, there was no sound from Rhys’s closed bedroom. And no sounds came out of it during that night, when Shiera jolted awake from a nightmare of being turned over a spit, and couldn’t remember where she was.

 

Moonlight danced on the sea beyond her open windows, and there was silence, such silence.

 

A weapon. She was a weapon to find that book, to stop the king from breaking the wall, to stop whatever he had planned for Jurian and the war that might destroy the world. That might destroy this place and her family and…. A sigh. And all those nights in the Night Court, fearing the time she would have to spend in Adriata, the place that had been her home for so long…

 

And in all the time she had been there with the Inner Circle, two tears. She had only shed two tears for her husband. Was she a bad wife, a bad widow? She had yelled, cried, grieved and broke since her husband had been murdered. And even the Cauldron knew she still loved him with all her shattered and broken heart but… Tarquin had been dead only for some months and there she was, wanting another male, another High Lord.

 

Her heart stopped.

 

Was she in love? With… Rhys?

 

She shook her head, that couldn't be possible. But a voice in her head began to ask.

 

Are you in love with him? Do you want to be with him?

 

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

 

When you returned from Under the Mountain you needed to escape from your ghosts, when you were at the Spring Court you wanted to be free from that prison, when you arrived at Velaris you wanted to feel alive again. But what do you want now?

 

I don’t know, not anymore.

 

What do you want?  What do you want?  WHAT. DO YOU. WANT?

 

I don’t know, I don’t know, I DON’T KNOW, she wanted to yell. Because she didn’t know, not anymore. She didn’t know who she was now, a wife, a widow, a runaway bride, a cursebreaker, a princess, an emissary, a weapon… And she didn’t know at all what her heart truly desired.

 

Was she in love with Rhysand? Did he even love her at all?

 

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

 

And for a heartbeat, she missed Velaris, missed the lights and the music and the Rainbow. She missed the cozy warmth of the town house to welcome me in from the crisp winter, missed... what it had been like to be a part of their little unit. She missed how confident she had felt there, while reading, while training… While joking.

 

Maybe wrapping his wings around her, writing her notes, comforting her during her nightmares had been Rhys’s way of ensuring his weapon didn’t break beyond repair.

 

That was fine, fair enough. They owed each other nothing beyond their promises to work and fight together, she thought. He could still be her friend. Companion… Whatever this thing was between them. His taking someone to his bed didn’t change those things. It’d just been a relief to think that for a moment, he might have been as lonely as her.

 


	6. Water butterflies

Shiera didn’t have the nerve to come out of her room for breakfast, to see if Rhys had returned. To see whom he came to breakfast with. She didn’t want to move. It wasn’t like those months after Tarquin’s death, when she didn’t even had energy for crying, when she had been completely empty. That day she was just… Tired. Of everything. She didn’t have energy but her mind was still working, thinking about everything she had lived, watched and felt.

 

She had nothing else to do, she told herself as she lay in bed, until lunchtime, where they would keep discussing about the war and the Book and... And Shiera was tired. So she stayed there until the servants came in, apologized for disturbing her, and started to leave. She stopped them, sayings she would bathe while they cleaned the room. They were polite, if nervous, and merely nodded.

 

Shiera took her time in the bath. And behind the locked door, she let that kernel of Tarquin’s sould, Tarquin’s power come out, first making the water rise from the tub, then shaping little animals and creatures out of it. And seeing that magic… It was like a part of him was still with her, in the water, where they had been so many times together. She had always loved water and her husband, her beautiful, kind and caring husband had gave it to her, along with her life, as if to say: I’ll always be with you. Here in your heart. Here in the water, our water.

 

And she would always protect his gift to her, everything that they had lived and shared, she would fight for him and his Court, his family, her family of the war arrived. Although Tarquin wouldn't be there to witness it. And that broke her heart. And as fast as the relief she felt when she discovered that a part of him would always be in her soul, the pain hit her.

 

Tarquin… her wonderful, kind, caring and loving husband… He had been murdered. He would never see how his Court slowly healed its wounds, how Varian was fighting for defend what his beloved brother had started, how Prythian was freed and maybe how it would be hitted by a war. And Shiera… She would never see his smile again, such a beautiful smile that had managed to melt her cold heart. She would never see his turquoise eyes fixed on her or his flowing silver hair dancing with the sea breeze. She would never hear his peaceful voice or his cheerful laugh again. He would never hug her like nobody had done. He had seen her even with flaws and he had never allowed her to believe in them because, as he always said: To me, you are perfect. He repeated it until she hugged him in response and then, when she was safe, happy in his arms, he kissed her. And for another kiss of her husband… She would give her life.

 

And there, in that palace, where they had been together, where they had married, where they had been so happy… Tears arrived to her eyes sooner than she had imagined. Sobs took control all over her body but she covered her mouth with her hand and made sure her shields were raised. The last thing she wanted was Varian or Cresseida to hear her or Rhys feel her through the bond. That was the moment she had been fearing the few past weeks and when it finally arrived… It devastated her.

 

So she wept. For all the things she wanted to tell him but never would. For all the moments they would never live together and above all… All the moments they had shared but she hadn’t realized their time was limited. She wished she had enjoyed more, every laugh they had shared, every look, every smile, every hug, every kiss… They all flashed in her mind and the painting she saw, the title… She whispered it, soft, quietly. Only for him, only for Tarquin if he could hear it, and wherever he was now, she wished with all her heart he could hear it: I would trade all my tomorrows… for just one yesterday.

 

* * *

 

She was onto tears and water-butterflies flitting through the room when she realized she had been in the tub long enough that the bath had gone cold.

 

Like the night before, Nuala walked through the walls from wherever she was staying in the palace, and dressed her, somehow attuned to when she had be ready. Cerridwen, she told her, had drawn the short stick and was seeing to Amren. Shiera didn’t have the nerve to ask about Rhys, either.

 

Nuala selected seafoam green accented with rose gold, curling and then braiding back Shiera’s hair in a thick, loose plait glimmering with bits of pearl. Whether Nuala knew why the princess was there, what she had be doing, she didn’t say. But she took extra care of her face, brightening her lips with raspberry pink, dusting her cheeks with the faintest blush.

 

The main hall was situated on a level about halfway up, the perfect meeting place for those who dwelled in the spires above and those who worked unseen and unheard below. This level held all the various council rooms, ballrooms, dining rooms, and whatever other rooms might be needed for visitors, events, gatherings. Access to the residential levels from which she had come was guarded by four soldiers at each stairwell, all of whom watched her carefully as she waited against a seashell pillar for her court.

 

Shiera wondered if Varian could sense that she had been playing with his brother’s  power in the bathtub, that the piece of him he’d yielded was now here and answering to her.

 

Varian emerged from one of the adjacent rooms as the clock struck two, followed by his  companions. Rhysand’s gaze swept over Shiera, noting the clothes that were obviously in honor of their host, her husband, her family and their Court. Noting the way she did not meet his eyes, or Cresseida’s, as she looked solely at Varian, Mor and Amren beside him.

 

“You’re looking much better today” Varian said, inclining his head. Shiera didn’t smile, she didn't have any energy left for it so she simply nodded.

 

She could feel Rhys still assessing her but she ignored him. Maybe she would send a water-dog barking after him later, let it bite him in the ass for not having said a single word to her since the morning before. Something brushed against her mental shield, a rumble of something dark, powerful. Though it felt an awful lot like the dark, flickering emotion that had haunted her, so much like it that she stepped a bit closer to Varian. Shiera ignored it and made her shields even stronger with her anger. That brush of emotion went silent on the other side of her shields.

 

Good.

 


	7. To the stars who listen

Rhysand was lounging on Shiera’s bed as if he owned it.

 

She took one look at the hands crossed behind his head, the long legs draped over the edge of the mattress, and ground her teeth. “What do you want?” she asked, annoyed, and shut the door loud enough to emphasize the bite in her words. “You ignored me quite well today”. “Is that what got under your skin?". Plain words colder than the damned Winter Court. “What got under my skin” Rhys said, his breathing a bit uneven, “is that you said you would return to Tamlin”.

 

The rest of the world faded to mist as the words sank in. “You are worried”. Avoiding the question, he shook his head, stalking to the little table against the far wall and knocking back a glass of amber liquid.

 

“Flirting and giggling with Cress went well, I take it?”. He snorted, “You tell me”. She ignored him. “Varian wants your alliance, desperately. He wants to trust you, rely on you”. “Well, Cresseida is under the impression that her brother is rather ambitious, so I’d be careful to read between his words”. Shiera tensed, noticing the joke but also… “Did she tell you that before, during, or after you took her to bed?”.

 

Rhys stood in a graceful, slow movement. “Is that why you wouldn’t look at me? Because I flirted with your sister? Because you think I fucked her for information?”. “Information or your own pleasure, I don’t care”.

 

“Territorial over your sister, is that what I detect, princess?”. Shiera tensed. “Cresseida is also a princess, you should ask her”. Rhys rose a brow, confused. “You don’t want me to flirt with your sister, it’s that?” he pushed but she ignored the question. He came around the bed, and she stood her ground, even as he stopped with hardly a hand’s breadth between them. “Jealous, princess?”.

 

Shiera ignored him again and Rhysand’s teeth flashed. “Do you think I would particularly like having to flirt with a lonely female to get information about her Court? Do you think I feel good about myself, doing that?”. One of her brows raised. “You seemed to enjoy yourself plenty last night”. His snarl was soft, vicious. “I took her out for a drink in the city, let her talk about her life, her pressures, and brought her back to her room, and went no farther than the door. I didn’t take her to bed. None of us wanted to.  I waited for you at breakfast, but you slept in. Or avoided me, apparently. And I tried to catch your eye this afternoon, but you were so good at shutting me out completely”.

 

Shiera blinked. He pusher her, “Now tell me, princess… Were you territorial… or jealous?”. She wasn’t sure she was even breathing. Her lips were pursed now, trying to elude answering it. Leaving the glass on the table, Rhys came closer, walking like a wild and elegant cat. “Come on, Shiera darling… A thought for a thought”.

 

Shiera debated of punching him in his damned perfect face but after a moment she lifted her brows and pursed her lips even more. “Fine” she replied and he nodded with an evil grin. “You don’t want me to flirt with your sister, is that? You want to protect her from me?”. “No” she let out, “No, is not that at all”. A sigh. “I love Cress with all my heart, she is my sister and I wish her all the happiness in the world”. She met his gaze again, her heart thundering. “And you deserve it too, Rhys. You are a good male, one of the bests”.

 

The High Lord blinked, totally amazed by the truth in her words.

 

“What’s the thing then?” he asked, a bit colder than he would have wanted but he continued, “Are you jealous?”. He needed to know it, to know if she felt something, even the smallest… Of course he hated to push her in that way but it was the only chance he had because he felt it through the bond, the truth that was dancing in the surface but Shiera still kept it.

 

She gave him a hostile look. “Do you really want to know it?” she asked coldy too. Rhysand held her green stare for a moment and finally said, “Yes”. “Fine, then”.

 

She swallowed hard. “Yes” she replied, “Yes. I was… I am jealous”. Rhys blinked again, his heart stopping. “I’m jealous... because I was once granted the gift of love… and I lost it, forever”. She took a step towards him, slowly. “I know that I will never live it anymore. I will never see…”, the name, his name… She choked with it, it had been so long since she had said it… “I will never see… Tarquin again. I will never see him smiling or laughing or…”. Her hands curled in fists. “What we had, what we shared… It’s something that I will never get back and…”, she placed the hand where her wedding ring was, over her chest, her heart. “And it kills me. Every time that I think about it, about him”.

 

“He didn’t return from Under the Mountain, I did but I didn’t felt alive until you appeared in the Spring Court. And even if we go to a war, even if we win… I want to live, not just survive. And when I saw you together… you seemed alive, living and enjoying life”.

 

“And why can’t you start living again, enjoying life again?” he asked but seeing she wasn’t about to reply he whispered softly, “Tarquin wanted you to find love again. Why don’t you try?”. Her lower lip began to tremble. “Why don’t I try?” she let out in a broken voice, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I had one purpose. I fought for it, I died for it. But I did it because I thought that Tarquin and I... That we could have a life together… But I was a stupid little girl, with stupid dreams, who never learnt”. Sobs started to appear, to take control of her body, her voice. “When you brought me back to life and I realized I was immortal, I thought again that we could finally be happy, that we could live a very long, happy and inmortal live, together. And it all vanished in a moment”.

 

“I lost all hope then, about living, about dreaming with being happy, full, alive again. Because even if I found love… Tarquin died months ago, months. I would feel l was betraying him, betraying his memory if I found happiness again”. Rhys’ heart broke in two in that moment, hitted by the truth behind her words, her unconditional love and fear if she betrayed it somehow, even if that meant to never be happy, living again.

 

“You wouldn’t be betraying him, you know that” he tried again, gently. “He wanted you…”. “I know what he wanted” she cut him off, “I swore it to him because I love him but I… I think I will never be able to love again. Love was once granted to me and I don’t think I will be ever be so lucky to find someone who understands me”. She took another step, but this time towards the bed, and spoke with a freezing voice again, as tears still appearing in her bright, green eyes. “I'm not easy to love. Tarquin loved me and I didn’t understand why, but he did. And I know it’s impossible to find someone that looks at me and didn’t see a wife, a widow, a cursebreaker, a symbol, a prize or a princess. Because, who could ever understand me at all? And I mean the real me, the one only you and I know. Who could ever understand me when I woke up crying because I was tortured, because I fought to death, because… because my husband is dead…”. Her voice broke due to a sob and needed to sat on the bed, but she tried to continue. “Not many people know what is to go to bed crying and wake up still with tears in your face. With the feeling that you will never be happy again or… loved”.

 

Shiera broke completely and wept again, quietly as she covered her mouth with her hands, her entire body trembling. And she was ashamed.

 

Ashamed of being crying like a little girl again.

Ashamed of losing the confidence she had learnt in Velaris.

Ashamed of breaking down in front of Rhysand.

Ashamed of not being able to realize or admit what she really felt about the High Lord of the Night Court.

 

And after all… She wasn’t prepared at all.

 

She wasn’t prepared to leave all her sadness behind because, for her, it would mean that she forgot her husband.

She wasn’t prepared to learn how to love and be happy again.

She wasn’t prepare to face her feelings towards Rhys, because she didn’t know what it could imply, how their relationship could change.

 

And for a moment, one brief moment, she wanted to lower her shields. She nearly wanted to show everything to Rhys so didn't have to tell him. But she wasn’t ready, not yet.

 

Rhysand walked fast but carefully and kneeled in front of her. He tried desperately to reach her mind. And even if she had her shields up, adamant; he could clearly notice one feeling. Shame. And he couldn't bear that.  He lifted his hands to pull her hands away from her face and cupped it between his own. “Don’t” he let out and she seemed confused. Rhys began to make circular caresses with his thumbs against her cheeks and whispered, “Don’t be ashamed. Never for this”. She shook her head, “You don’t understand” she sobbed. Because how could she tell him all the thoughts and feelings she was living in that right moment?

 

Rhysand took a deep breath. He knew that for her, hearing his name was devastating but… “You deserve to be happy. Tarquin wanted that for you, it was the thing that more haunted him and that’s why he made you promise you would”. “But I don’t think I’m ready for it… I’m afraid to move on and… I don’t want to forget him” she sobbed and his heart broke again. And seeing that she wasn’t able to calm herself, and Rhys himself without being able to think of another option, lifted his head until his lips touched the wet skin of her left cheek. And when he separated, Shiera hiccuped, surprised, but her sobs and tears suddenly stopped.

 

“Everyone in Prythian knows how much you love him and how much he loved you. You both fight for it and you both died for it. No one will ever say you don’t love him anymore”. She blinked slowly, astounded. He went on, “And about forgetting…”. He took a breath, remembering his own fears when his mother and his sister had been murdered, then when he had lost Alyx and even if he couldn’t remember her face, her wonderful and beautiful face, somehow she was still living in his memory, and that would stay that way… Forever.

 

“The ones who love us never really leave us” he whispered and pointed to her chest, “You can always find them in here”. Shiera let two more tears roll down her face and Rhys brushed his thumb against her other cheek, wiping the tears away before dropping a soft kiss on it, making sure they were gone. “Better?”. She hiccuped again but managed to say, astounded, “Thank you”. Rhysand shook his head slowly, still cupping her face. And it was just because he was so near, being so kind  with her that she asked quietly “Why did you ignore me? Why did you go with Cress if you didn’t want to…?”. “Because I thought you needed time” he cut her off.

 

Then Rhys took a deep breath and began to speak again, in a calm, quiet voice. “You were so nervous about returning here… Then we arrived, and when I saw you looking through that window, you sent what you were feeling through the bond and I wanted to go with you but Mor and Cresseida were faster. And I was so stupid that I told myself that it would be better for you if I didn’t bother you while we were here. So I decided to talk to Cresseida because I wanted to more about this Court but I knew that I couldn’t ask it to you because I didn’t want you to break, not after you were beginning to fight, to get strong and healthy”.

 

Shiera shook her head and took his hands between her own, resting them on her lap. “I needed time, I still need it but… I needed you, too” she confessed and wasn’t sure if Rhys was breathing in that moment. She swallowed hard. “I needed you and your jokes, your kindness, your humor…”. And he realized the huge mistake he had made, even if he thought he had done the right thing, the best thing for her… And that had helped to break her even more.

 

“I’m sorry” he confessed and caressed the back of her hands in circled. “I’m so sorry. I thought that it was better if I kept away from you, that you would prefer it that way while we were here”. She shook her head again and muttered “Quite the opposite”. Rhysand lifted his gaze from their joined hands and met her bright, green eyes. “I’m sorry” he repeated with bated breath, “But I hope you can forgive me if…”. “If…”. He gave her a vicious grin, “If I promise to be an annoying prick around you all the time we spend in this sunny and beautiful Court”.

 

Shiera choked with an abrupt laugh and managed to nod with a shy smile curving her beautiful lips. Then they stood up and Rhys went next to the glasses with the amber liquid but he heard her voice at his back, “This was a thought for a thought, I remember you…” she managed to purr softly, “It seems you owe me something…”. He chuckled and turned to meet her gaze. “As an illyrian, I have to sleep on my tummy because of my wings”.

 

And for his surprise and delight, Shiera smiled. A huge, wonderful, true and cheerful smile. She even let out a broken laugh. “Here I am, opening up with you, telling the biggest truth I’ve ever told anyone and you come up with that”, another short  laugh, “You are a prick” she hissed, still grinning. Rhysand snorted, “Well, that is what I promised. Didn’t I?”. Her smile grew, “Indeed” she purred.

 

Shiera then walked around the room and pushed him, “Come on, Rhys…”. He let out a sigh and she saw how the smirk in his beautiful face faded in a moment. He owed her a truth, a deep one.

 

Rhys braced his hands on the table, lowering his head, the powerful muscles of his back quivering beneath his shirt as the shadow of those wings struggled to take form. “I know what you told Tamlin once” he said. “That you thought it would be easy to fall in love with him”. “So?” she replied, “That was a year ago, before knowing he was such an asshole”. Rhysand swallowed, hard. “The thing is… Is that you meant it". A deep breath. "I was… I’m jealous” he admitted, “Of that. That I’m not... that sort of person, Shiera. The Spring Court only showed backbone during those years Under the Mountain”.

 

And after all he had done to him, to his family… He shut the memories, he needed to focus.

 

“And Tamlin, with his neutral Court... he will never have to worry about someone walking away because the threat against their life, their children’s lives, will always be there. So, yes, I was jealous of him, because it will always be easy for him. And he will never know what it is to look up at the night sky and wish”.

 

The Court of Dreams.

 

The people who knew that there was a price, and one worth paying, for that dream. The bastard-born warriors, the illyrian half-breed, the gentle orphan, the monster trapped in a beautiful body, the dreamer born into a court of nightmares... And the princess with a hunter’s soul.

 

And perhaps because it was the most vulnerable thing they said to each other, perhaps it was the burning in their eyes, but she walked to where he stood over the little bar. Shiera didn’t look at him as she took the decanter of amber liquid and poured herself a knuckle’s length, then refilled his. But she met his stare as she clinked her glass against his, the crystal ringing clear and bright over the crashing sea far below, and whispered, “To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys”.

 

He picked up his glass and looked directly into her sparkling and bewitching green eyes, where he could easily drown in them. His gaze so piercing that Shiera wondered why she had bothered blushing at all for him and Cress.

 

Rhys clinked his glass against hers. And seeing the wonderful smile curving her lips, he whispered, “To the stars who listen… and the dreams that are answered”.

 


	8. Discovering the temple

When she awoke at dawn, she made herself wait until a reasonable hour before setting out into the city, made herself take an extended bath to secretly practice that water-magic. And while crafting water-animals grew tedious after an hour... it came to me easily. Perhaps because of her proximity to Tarquin, perhaps because of whatever affinity for water was already in her blood, her soul.

 

Once breakfast had finally been served and consumed, Shiera finally strode through the shining halls of the palace on my way out into the awakening city. Most of them recognized her as she examined shops and houses and bridges she had once walk through with Tarquin.

 

It had been the High Fae, the nobility, that had been kept Under the Mountain. These people had been left here... to be tormented. Scars littered the buildings, the streets, from what had been done in retaliation for their rebellion: burn marks, gouged bits of stone, entire buildings turned to rubble. The back of the castle, as Cress had claimed, was indeed in the middle of being repaired. Three turrets were half shattered, the tan stone charred and crumbling.

 

Just as the people she saw, High Fae and faeries with scales and gills and long, spindly webbed fingers, all seemed to be slowly healing. There were scars and missing limbs on more than she could count and she nearly vomited. She hadn’t seen any of that, she hadn’t been there during the attack and when she had returned from Under the mountain she had refused to leave her room. But in their eyes... in their eyes, light gleamed.

 

She had saved them, too. Freed them from whatever horrors had occurred during those five decades. Although she hadn’t been able to save their High Lord but... she had saved them, that’s what Varian and Cresseida didn’t stop saying to her, no matter how she complained about it.

 

* * *

 

As Shiera strode up the steps of the palace, cursing herself for remaining so out of shape even with Cassian’s lessons, the princess spied Amren perched on the ledge of a turret balcony, cleaning her nails. Varian leaned against the threshold of another tower balcony within jumping range. A cat playing with a dog, that’s what it was. Amren was practically washing herself, silently daring him to get close enough to sniff. Shiera wondered if Varian would like her claws. Unless that was why he hounded her day and night.

 

She shook her head, continuing up the steps, watching as the tide swept out. The sunset-stained sky caught on the water and tidal muck. A little night breeze whispered past, and she leaned into it, letting it cool the sweat on her. There had once been a time when she had dreaded the end of summer, had prayed it would hold out for as long as possible. Now the thought of endless warmth and sun made her... Melancholic.

 

Not just utterly broken. Not since the other night, when Rhys had encouraged her to learn to live again. Shiera knew she wasn’t ready at all but seeing the blue sea before her, the same one she had been swimming in with Tarquin… She felt her heart aching and placed the hand of the ring over her chest. No, it was truly clear she would need time to heal the huge wound that was still in her heart. But she was afraid. Afraid of staying in that sadness forever but also afraid of being happy again, if that would seem that she didn’t love him anymore. She wouldn’t be able to hear that she had moved on, that she had forgotten him forever.

 

But Rhys’ words echoed in her head and somehow, they made her less sad, more willing to take a deep breath and continue walking, still seeing Tarquin’s beautiful face in her memory but hoping to learn to do it without breaking down completely.

 

* * *

 

Shiera was about to turn back to the stairs when she beheld the bit of land that had been revealed near the tidal causeway. The small building. No wonder she hadn’t seen it, as she had never been up this high in the day when the tide was out... And during the rest of the day, from the muck and seaweed now gleaming on it, it would have been utterly covered. Even now, it was half submerged.

 

But she couldn’t tear her eyes from it. Like it was a little piece of home, wet and miserable-looking as it was, and she need only hurry along the muddy causeway between the quieter part of the city and the mainland… fast, fast, fast, so she might catch it before it vanished beneath the waves again. But the site was too visible, and from the distance, she couldn’t definitively tell if it was the Book contained within.

 

  



	9. The Plan

They dined with Cresseida, and Varian in their family dining room. Varian was studying Amren as if he was trying to solve a riddle she’d posed to him, and she paid him no heed whatsoever as she debated with Cresseida about the various translations of some ancient text.

 

Rhys could hear Mor telling the silver princess of the things she had seen in his city that day, the fresh fish she had bought for herself on the docks. “You ate it right there?” Cress said, lifting her brows. Rhys had propped his head on a fist as she said, “They fried it with the other fishermen’s lunches. Didn’t charge me extra for it”. Cress let out an impressed laugh. “I can’t say I’ve ever done that… sailor or no”. “You should” Mor said, meaning every word and her eyes warmer than usual. “It was delicious”. Mor grinned at Cress, aware of every smile the princess offered her. “Perhaps we could go for a walk in the morning down the causeway when the tide is out” the princess suggested and Mor’s smile grew even more.

 

After some minutes, Shiera asked Varian “There’s that little building along the way to the beach. What is that?”. “It’s a temple ruin” Varian said blandly, “It used to be just mud and seaweed but our father repeared it. It’s where we suppose he hid the Book”. “And why don’t you just go there and see if the Book is really inside that building?” Mor let out and noticed how Varian and Cress seemed nervous. “It’s not that easy at all” the princess muttered.

 

“When the tide rises, the entire temple is underwater. And I don’t have the power to retrieve it but you have” Varian spoke and pointed to Shiera, who went pale, remembering why she had that power. Rhys simply grinned at her, “Well, that’s why you have been training, Shiera darling”. She looked at him and remembered the Weaver, and she didn’t know why, but she gave him a little, wicked smile.

 

* * *

 

They had been sitting at the dinner table, counting down the hours, forming the plan. “So how do we get in?” Shiera inquired. “I guess it’s likely warded against winnowing” Rhys said, bracing his forearms on his thighs. Amren’s lips were bloodred in the moonlight. “Such gallantry” she joked, “to do the easy part, then leave us to dig through mud and seaweed”.

 

* * *

 

Rhys  waited until the household lights dimmed before coming into Shiera’s room. Then he arrived, leaning against the closed door. “Ready for tomorrow?”. A shallow nod. Rhys pushed off the door, crossing to where she sat on the bed. “Are you sure, Shiera darling?” he purred, lifting a brow. She met his gaze. “Rhys… What if I can’t?” she let out. “What do you mean?” he inquired, sitting next to her. She moved nervously. “What if I can’t control the power? What if I can’t retrieve the Book because of that?”.

 

He shook his head and passed his hand over the princess’ ear, pulling the black waves aside, slowly, trying to calm her. “You don’t have to control it. You have to become it”. “I don’t understand…”. “It’s easy to explain but harder to do it” Rhys said softly.

 

“The last person who touched that Book was… Tarquin”. Her heart stopped by hearing the name again. Rhys felt it and took her left hand between his. “You have his power, you have what made his soul… Tomorrow, you will have to focus on that… On him”. His look was warm, kind and gently. He absolutely knew how difficult it was for her to talk about it. “If you touch the Book and everythings goes well… It will only feel your power, his power. You will have to focus in the power, feel it. Let the Book think you are…”. “Tarquin?” she suggested in a whisper and Rhys nodded, lowering his head.

 

“I know it’s not going to be easy but…”. It was her time to nod slowly. “I’ll try”. And when he lifted his head, Shiera couldn't tell what that look meant, what was he feeling in that right moment. “You are doing it perfectly, you know”. “Doing what?” she murmured. “Dealing with all of this… Being here, getting ready for tomorrow, accepting to convince the queens… Accepting to work with me…”. “I don’t know where I would be if you hadn’t come to the wedding and asked me to work with you” she admitted with a shy smile that melted his heart.

 

He couldn’t bear it, to be so close to her, to be so in love with the mating bond pushing him…

 

He stood up in a graceful movement. “I wish you good luck tomorrow, Shiera darling. Try not to panic”. “Thanks the Cauldron I learned to control it when you sent me to the Weaver”. Rhys snorted, and shadows gathered around him as he loosened his grip on his power. Then he was gone with a rustle of invisible wings and a warm, dark breeze.


	10. Liar

Mor and Rhys flew them in close to low tide, The muck reeked, squelching and squeezing us with every step from the narrow causeway road to the little temple ruin. Barnacles, seaweed, and limpets clung to the dark gray stones, and every step into the sole interior chamber had that thing in Shiera’s chest saying where are you, where are you, where are you?

 

Varian and Cress had checked for wards around the site, but found none. Odd, but fortunate.

 

Thanks to the open doorway, they didn’t dare risk a light, but with the cracks in the stone overhead, the moonlight provided enough illumination. Knee-deep in muck, the tidal water slinking out over the stones, they surveyed the chamber, barely more than forty feet wide.

 

“I can feel it” Shiera breathed, amazed. “What is it like?” Cress let out. “Like a clawed hand running down my spine”. Indeed, her skin tingled, hair standing on end beneath her loose clothes. “It’s… sleeping”. “No wonder they hid it beneath stone and mud and sea” Amren muttered, the muck squelching as she turned in place. Shiera placed a hand on one of the walls and walked through the room. “I don’t feel anything in the walls. But... it’s here”. Indeed, Varian and her, they both looked down at the same moment and cringed. “We should have brought a shovel” Mor joked.

 

The tide was fully out now. Every minute counted. Not just for the returning water, but the sunrise that was not too far off. Every step an effort through the firm grip of the mud, Shiera honed in on that feeling, that call. She stopped in the center of the room, dead center.

 

Here, here, here, it whispered.

 

The princess leaned down, shuddering at the icy muck, at the bits of shell and debris that scraped her bare hands as she began hauling it away. “Hurry” Amren hissed, but stooped to claw at the heavy, dense mud. Crabs and skittering things tickled their fingers. They refused to think about them. So they all dug, and dug, until they were covered in salty mud that burned our countless little cuts as they panted at a stone floor. And a lead door. Mor swore and Cresseida explained, “Lead to keep its full force in, to preserve it. They used to line the sarcophagi of the great rulers with it, because they thought they’d one day awaken”. “If the King of Hybern goes unchecked with that Cauldron, they might very well”.

 

Varian shuddered, and pointed. “The door is sealed”. Amren wiped her hand on the only clean part of her, her neck, and used the other to scrape away the last bit of mud from the round door. Every brush against the lead sent pangs of cold through her. But there, a carved whorl in the center of the door. “This has been here for a very long time” she murmured and Varian nodded.

 

Shiera laid her hand flat on the whorl in the lead. A jolt went through her like lightning, and she grunted, bearing down on the door. Her fingers froze to it, as if the power were leeching her essence, drinking as Amren drank, and she felt it hesitate, question…

 

There was a shield in place… a shield of sea glass and coral and the undulating sea. So Shiera became that sea, became the whisper of waves against stone, the glimmer of sunlight on a gull’s white wings. She became that mental shield, she became... him. And then she was through it, a clear, dark tether showing me the way back should she need it. Shiera let instinct, no doubt granted from Rhys, guide her forward. To what she needed to be.

 

I am…

 

Come on, come on…

 

I am Tarquin.

 

I am summer; I am warmth; I am sea and sky and planted field.

 

And searing in the depths of her soul, her memory… She became every smile he’d given her, became the crystalline blue of his eyes, the brown of his skin. She felt her own skin shift, felt her bones stretch and change... Until she was him. And it was a set of beautiful male hands she now possessed, now pushed against the door. Until the essence of her became what she had tasted in him. Sea and sun and brine.

 

Cress and Varian held their breath and blinked, astonished as they saw their brother again as she became her husband. They looked to each other, they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. How could Shiera…?

 

The princess noticed how everyone was looking at her, at her new shape. She looked at her hands… his hands. They were as she remembered, brown, soft, warm and gentle. Then she looked to her chest and saw his clothes, blue and gold, and his hair, silver like the moonlight on the sea surface. And for a moment she wished she had a mirror, she wished she could see what they were staring at. She wished she could see again his smile, his eyes…

 

She heard a splash outside. The tide was faster than them.

 

Focus, focus, focus.

 

Shiera did not give herself a moment to think of what power she might have just used to become Tarquin. Did not allow any part of her that wasn’t Tarquin to shine through.

 

I am your master, and you will let me pass.

 

The lock pulled harder and harder, and she could barely breathe…

 

Then a click and groan.

 

Shiera shifted back into her own skin, and scrambled into the piled mud right as the door sank and swung away, tucking beneath the stones to reveal a spiral staircase drifting into a primordial gloom. And on a wet, salty breeze from below came the tendrils of power.

 

Across the open stair, Amren’s face had gone paler than usual, her silver eyes glowing bright. “I never saw the Cauldron” she said, “but it must be terrible indeed if even a grain of its power feels… like this”. Indeed, that power was filling the chamber, Shiera’s head, her lungs, smothering and drowning and seducing…

 

“Quickly” Mor said, and a small ball of faelight shot down the curve of the stairs, illuminating gray, worn steps slick with slime. They descended, one hand braced on the freezing stone wall to keep from slipping. Shiera made it one rotation down, Rhys close behind, before faelight danced on waist-deep, putrid water. They scanned the passage at the foot of the stairs. “There’s a hall, and a chamber beyond that. All clear” Cress muttered. “Then hurry the hell up” Amren said. Bracing themselves, they stepped into the dark water, biting down their yelp at the near-freezing temperature, the oiliness of it. Amren gagged, the water nearly up to her chest. “This place no doubt fills up swiftly once the tide comes back in” Shiera observed as we sloshed through the water, frowning at the many drainage holes in the walls.

 

They went only slow enough for her to detect any sort of ward or trap, but, there was none. Nothing at all. Though who would ever come down here, to such a place? Fools… desperate fools, that’s who.

 

The long stone hall ended in a second lead door. Behind it, that power coiled, overlaying Tarquin’s imprint. “It’s in there”. The cold was deep enough that Shiera wondered if she might have already been dead in her human body. Or well on her way to it. She laid her palm flat on the door. The sucking and questioning and draining were worse this time. So much worse, and she had to brace her tattooed hand on the door to keep from falling to her knees and crying out as it ransacked her.

 

I am summer, I am summer, I am summer.

 

She didn’t shift into Tarquin this time, didn’t need to. A click and groan, and the lead door rolled into the wall, water merging and splashing as she stumbled back into Rhys’ waiting arms. “Nasty, nasty lock” they heard Amren hissing, shuddering not just from the water. Shiera’s head was spinning. Another lock and she might very well pass out. But the faelight bobbed into the chamber beyond them, and they all halted. The water had not merged with another source, but rather halted against an invisible threshold.

 

The dry chamber beyond was empty save for a round dais and pedestal.

 

And a small, lead box atop it.

 

Shiera waved a tentative hand over the air where the water just, stopped. Then, satisfied there were no waiting wards or tricks, she stepped beyond, dripping onto the gray stones as she stood in the chamber, wincing a bit, and beckoned. Wading as fast as they could, the rest followed her, half falling onto the floor as their bodies adjusted to sudden air. Shiera turned, and sure enough, the water was a black wall, as if there were a pane of glass keeping it in place. “Let’s be quick about it” Varian said, and Shiera didn’t disagree.

 

They all both carefully surveyed the chamber: floors, walls, ceilings. No signs of hidden mechanisms or triggers. Though no larger than an ordinary book, the lead box seemed to gobble up the faelight, and inside it, whispering... The seal of Tarquin’s power, and the Book. And now she heard, clear as if Mor herself whispered it: Who are you… what are you? Come closer… let me smell you, let me see you…

 

They paused on opposite sides of the pedestal, the faelight hovering over the lid. “No wards” Cress said, her voice barely more than the scrape of her boots on the stone. “No spells. You have to remove it… carry it out”. The thought of touching that box, getting close to that thing inside it... “The tide is coming back in” Varian added, surveying the ceiling and Rhys asked,  “That soon?”. “Perhaps the sea knows”. And if they were caught down here when the water came in… Shiera did not think her little water-animals would help. She could breath underwater but the others… Panic writhed in her gut, but she pushed it away and steeled herself, lifting her chin.

 

The box would be heavy… and cold.

 

Who are you, who are you, who are you…

 

She flexed her fingers and cracked her neck. I am summer; I am sea and sun and green things.

 

“Come on, come on” Mor murmured. Above, water trickled over the stones.

 

Who are you, who are you, who are you...

 

I am Tarquin; I am the High Lord of the Summer Court; I am your master.

 

The box quieted. As if that were answer enough. Shiera snatched the box off the pedestal, the metal biting into her hands, the power an oily smear through her blood.

 

An ancient, cruel voice hissed: Liar.

 

And the door slammed shut.


	11. The Book

 “SHIT” the princess let out and  Amren screamed “NO!”, at the door in an instant, her fist a radiant forge as she slammed it into the lead, once, twice. And above… the rush and gargle of water tumbling downstairs, filling the chamber...

 

No, no, no…

 

“You can’t do anything?” Mor asked towards Varian and Cress, who were trying to open the door. “No, we…”. Rhys reached the door while Amren’s blazing palm flattened against the door, burning, heating the metal, swirls and whorls radiating out through it as if they were a language all her own, and then…

 

The door burst open.

 

Only for a flood to come crashing in.

 

Mor grappled for the threshold, but missed as the water slammed her back, sweeping her under the dark, icy surface. The cold stole the breath from her lungs. Find the floor, find the floor… Her feet connected and she pushed up, gulping down air, scanning the dim chamber for Amren. She was clutching the threshold, eyes on her, hand out… glowing bright.

 

The water already flowed up to their chests, and they rushed to it, fighting the onslaught flooding the chamber, willing that strength into their body, their arms… Shiera extended a hand, closed her eyes and focused. The water began to obey her, some entering inside her palm, going to wherever it went inside of her. “Can you control it?” Varian asked, desperately. Shiera opened her eyes and looked to Rhys but he was holding the door. “I can but… I can control it but not make it… disappear” she managed to explain although some of it was still entering in her body. “Not completely at least”.

 

The water became easier, as if that kernel of power soothed its current, its wrath, but Rhys was now climbing up the threshold. “We have to get out right now. You have it?” he shouted over the roaring water. She nodded, and she realized his outstretched hand wasn’t for her, but for the door Amren had forced back into the wall. Holding it away until she could get out.

 

Shiera shoved through the archway, Rhys slipping around the threshold, just as the door rolled shut again, so violently that she wondered at the power Amren had used to push it back. The only downside was that the water in the hall now had much less space to fill. “You have to get out” Rhys said and he didn’t wait for her approval before he grabbed Shiera, hooking her feet around her stomach as he hoisted her onto his back, and he could feel how she was hugging the Book, Rhys could notice it against his neck.

 

She held out a palm in front of them, and the water buckled and trembled. Not a clear path, but a break in the current. Shiera directed again that kernel of Tarquin’s power, their power now, toward it. The water calmed further, straining to obey her command. Rhys ran, gripping her thighs probably hard enough to bruise. Step by step, water now raging down, now at his jaw, now at his mouth… But they hit the stairs, grabbing Cress’ waist, almost slipping on the slick step, Mor and Amren following them, and Shiera’s gasp stopped Rhys cold. Not a gasp of shock, but a gasp for air as a wall of water poured down the stairs. As if a mighty wave had swept over the entire site.

 

Even Shiera’s own mastery over the element could do nothing against it.Rhys had enough time to gulp down air, to grab Shiera’s legs and brace himself… And watch as that door atop the stairs slid shut, sealing them in a watery tomb.

 

* * *

 

 They were dead. They knew they were dead, and there was no way out of it.

 

Rhys had consumed his last breath, and he would be aware for every second until his lungs gave out and his body betrayed him and she swallowed that fatal mouthful of water. Shiera beat at his hands until he let go, until she swam after the rest of them, trying to calm her panicking heart, trying to focus on her power, but not Tarquin’s this time. But Helion’s. Air. They needed air.

 

Amren reached the door and slammed her palm into it. Symbols flared, again and again. But the door held.

 

They saw Shiera closing her eyes but somehow… managing to breath underwater as she… She let out a breath and moved her hands, making a big circle and in a moment… She created a bubble… of air.

 

She smiled, proudly and made it multiply and move around the filled room until everyone of them had their heads into one of the air bubbles. They breathed desperately, amazed into those bubbles and looked to the young princess who was smiling shyly, relieved for now.

 

“How?” Varian tried to say but he realized they couldn’t hear each other, only the bubbling noises they made as they swam. So they divided in pairs to be able to plan what to do next.

 

Cress and More were sharing a bubble now, Amren grabbed Varian and pulled him into her own and Rhys swam where Shiera was, making her enter in his bubble, holding her by the waist. “Are you okay?” the princess asked, her dark hair soaking. Rhys nodded. “Well done, Shiera darling” he purred, making her blush, what everyone else saw. “Now we have to get out of here”.

 

They swam together until they reached the door, Shiera shoving her body into the door, over and over, and the lead dented beneath her shoulders. Then she had talons, talons not claws, and she was slicing and punching at the metal…

 

Then the door was ripped away.

 

And the faelight remained bright enough for me to see the three beautiful, ethereal faces hissing through fish’s teeth as their spindly webbed fingers snatched them out of the stairs, and into their frogskin arms.

 

Water-wraiths.

 

And those spiny hands grabbed their arms, pulling them out of the bubbles. And when they lost their breath and opened their mouths, water shoving in, cutting off thought and sound and breath. Debris and seaweed and water shot past them, and Rhys had the vague sense of being hurtled through the water, so fast the water burned beneath his eyelids.

 

And then fresh air… air, air, air, but their lungs were full of water as… A fist slammed into Mor’s stomach and she vomited water across the waves. Cress gulped down air, blinking at the bruised purple and blushing pink of the morning sky. A sputter and gasp not too far from them, and they treaded water as they  turned in the bay to see Amren, Varian and Rhys vomiting as well, but alive. Only Shiera was breathing normal, still holding the Book between her arms.

 

And in the waves between them, onyx hair plastered to their strange heads like helmets, the water- wraiths floated, staring with dark, large eyes.

 

The sun was rising beyond them, the city encircling them stirring.

 

The one in the center looked to Shiera and said, “Our sister’s debt is paid”.

 

And then they were gone.

 

* * *

 

They all reached a quiet, sandy cove and collapsed.

 

“Is anyone dead?” Rhys gasped and when she saw Amren hoisting herself up on her elbows, Varian still spitting water, Cresseida draining her hair and Mor pulling the seaweeds away from her clothes; she didn’t know how, she didn’t know why but in Shiera's lips appeared a huge grin. Her throat was ravaged, and sand tickled her cheeks, her bare hands but they had escaped form that mortal trap, that underwater tomb… They all realized and understood why she did and after smiles appeared in their faces, followed by a laugh, as rasping and raw as their lungs. But a real laugh, perhaps edged by hysteria.

 

* * *

 

 Varian’s gaze shot to Shiera. She touched her jacket, the heavy metal lump within. “Good” Mor murmured and laid on the golden sand again.

 

Then Rhys and her grabbed their arms, and they vanished. The dark wind was cold and roaring, and they had barely enough strength to cling to him. They landed in the palace’s foyer and all of them collapsed to the marbled floor, spraying sand and water on it.

 

“The wraith… How?” Cress breathed. “During the Tithe in the Spring Court, the water-wraith emissary said they had no gold, no food to pay. They were starving so I gave her some of the jewelry Tamlin had given to me to pay her dues. She swore that she and her sisters would never forget the kindness”.

 

They remained on the floor as Amren began quietly laughing, her small body shaking. “What?” Shiera demanded. “Only an immortal with a mortal heart would have given one of those horrible beasts the money. It’s so...”, Amren laughed again, her dark hair plastered with sand and seaweed. And Varian froze while looking at her. For a moment, she even looked human. “Whatever luck you live by, girl... thank the Cauldron for it”.

 

 Rhysand groaned as they got to his feet, sand falling everywhere, and offered a hand to Shiera to rise. His grip was firm, but his violet eyes were surprisingly tender as she squeezed it before snapping his fingers. They were both instantly clean and warm, their clothes dry. Save for a wet area around her breast,  where that box waited. Her companions were solemn-faced as she approached and dropped it onto the table. It thudded, and they all recoiled, swearing. Rhys crooked a finger at her. “One last task, Shiera darling. Unlock it, please”.

 

Her knees were buckling, her head spinning but... She slid into a chair, tugging that hateful box to her, and placed a hand on top.

 

Hello, liar, it purred.

 

“Hello” Shiera said softly.

 

Will you read me?

 

“No”.

 

The others didn’t say a word, though she felt their confusion shimmering in the room. Only Rhys and Amren watched her closely.

 

Open, Shiera said silently.

 

Say please.

 

“Please” she said.

 

The box… the Book… was silent. Then it said, Like calls to like.

 

“Open” she gritted out.

 

Unmade and Made; Made and Unmade… that is the cycle. Like calls to like.

 

The princess pushed her hand harder, so tired she didn’t care about the thoughts tumbling out, the bits and pieces that were a part of and not part of her: heat and water and ice and light and shadow.

 

Cursebreaker, it called to her, and the box clicked open.

 

She sagged back in her chair, grateful for the roaring breeze that entered through the opened windows of the hall. Mor’s brown eyes were dark. “I never want to hear that voice again”. “Well, you will” Rhysand said blandly, lifting the lid. “Because you’re coming with us to see those mortal queens as soon as they deign to visit”.

 

Shiera was too tired to think about that, about what they had left to do. She peered into the box. It was not a book, not with paper and leather. It had been formed of dark metal plates bound on three rings of gold, silver, and bronze, each word carved with painstaking precision, in an alphabet I could not recognize. Yes, it indeed turned out her reading lessons were unnecessary.

 

Rhys left it inside the box as they all peered in, then recoiled. Only Amren remained staring at it. The blood drained from her face entirely. “What language is that?” Cress asked. Varian thought Amren’s hands might have been shaking, but she shoved them into her pockets. “It is no language of this world”. Only Rhys was unfazed by the shock on her face. As if he’d suspected what the language might be. Why he had picked her to be a part of this hunt.

 

“What is it, then?” Varian asked. She stared and stared at the Book, as if it were a ghost, as if it were a miracle, and said, “It is the Leshon Hakodesh. The Holy Tongue”. Those quicksilver eyes shifted to Rhysand, she’d understood, too, why she’d gone. Rhysand said, “I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were here... and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it”.

 

It was Mor who warned, “Don’t play those sorts of games, Rhysand”. But he shook his head. “Not a game. It was a gamble that Amren would be able to read it… and a lucky one”.  Amren’s nostrils flared delicately, and for a moment, Varian wondered if she might throttle her High Lord for not telling her his suspicions, that the Book might indeed be more than the key to their own salvation.

 

Rhys smiled at her in a way that said he’d be willing to let her try. “I thought, too, that the Book might also contain the spell to free you… and send you home. If they were the ones who wrote it in the first place”.  Amren’s throat bobbed, slightly. Mor said, “Shit”. “What do you mean by back to her world?” Varian began but Rhys went on, “You’ll ask her later. I did not tell you my suspicions, because I did not want to get your hopes up. But if the legends about the language were indeed right... Perhaps you might find what you’ve been looking for, Amren”.

 

“I need the other piece before I can begin decoding it”. Her voice was raw. “Hopefully our request to the mortal queens will be answered soon,” he said, frowning at the sand and water staining the foyer. “And hopefully the next encounter will go better than this one”. Her mouth tightened, yet her eyes were blazing bright. “Thank you”. Ten thousand years in exile, alone.

 

Then Mor said, “Even if the book can nullify the Cauldron... there’s Jurian to contend with”. They all looked at her. “That’s the piece that doesn’t fit” she clarified, tapping a finger on the table. “Why resurrect him in the first place? And how does the king keep him bound? What does the king have over Jurian to keep him loyal?”. “I’d considered that” Rhys said, taking a seat across from Shiera at the table. Of course he had considered it. Rhys shrugged. “Jurian was... obsessive in his pursuits of things. He died with many of those goals left unfinished”. Mor’s face paled a bit. “If he suspects Miryam is alive...”. “Odds are, Jurian believes Miryam is gone” Rhys said. “And who better to raise his former lover than a king with a Cauldron able to resurrect him?”.

 

“Would Jurian ally with Hybern just because he thinks Miryam is dead and wants her back?”. Varian said, bracing his arms on the table. “He’d do it to get revenge on Drakon for winning her heart” Rhys said. He shook his head. “We’ll discuss this later. It’s been a long day and I think we all need to rest”.

 

And Shiera made a note to ask him who these people were, what their history was, to ask Rhys why he’d never hinted Under the Mountain that he knew the man behind the eye on Amarantha’s ring. After she had a bath. And water. And a nap.

 

Across the table, she lifted her gaze from her wet clothes and found Rhys’s eyes already on her. She inclined her head slightly, and lowered her shield only long enough to say down the bond: To the dreams that are answered. A heartbeat later, a sensual caress trailed along her mental shields, a polite request. She let it drop, let him in, and his voice filled her head. To the huntresses who remember to reach back for those less fortunate, and water-wraiths who swim very, very fast.

 


End file.
